Sorting Javert
by M. the Inspector
Summary: We often assume that dead characters have their merits judged by a choir of angels...but what if, instead, Javert & Valjean were looked at by the Four Founders of Hogwarts? R/R!
1. Default Chapter

**Read me.**

This piece came about because I was writing character explorations of Javert and Valjean.  Unfortunately, being something of a mad Harry Potter fan, I ended up with a lot of terms like "very, very Slytherin" in my descriptions.  So, I thought, why not have the Four Founders themselves discuss our dear Inspector?  Here is an analysis of Valjean and Javert, viewed through the eyes of Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and my favorite, Salazar Slytherin (who smokes a cigar in this story, for some reason.)  

Disclaimer:  The Muggles belong to Victor Hugo and the wizards are JK Rowling's.  The only thing here that's mine is the stupid idea of putting them together.

Because this is primarily a Les Miz story, I have Salazar & co speaking in a relatively modern fashion.  I didn't exactly feel like thinking out the thee's and thou's they might have used.

****************************************

Helga Hufflepuff opened the first file.  "Oh, dear," she sighed.  "He's got a _negative kindness rating.  This one's not for me.  Somebody else take a look."_

Usually, the ones Helga rejected immediately were Salazar's territory.  He snatched up the folder, flipped it open carelessly, and read aloud, "Javert."  He raised his eyebrows and looked at Godric.  "Not much of a name, has he?  Not that we're any to talk…"

"Oh, come on, Sal, just read it," Rowena snapped.  Ordinarily patient, she was irritated today because of Sal's lighthearted joking over the future of these students.  They had _lives in their hands today, she reminded herself.  This was not the time for foolishness._

"All right, all right."  He puffed on his cigar.  "Um.  This one's a piece of work, guys – he appears to be a driven policeman.  A religious fanatic without a religion.  It says here," he added, squinting at a hastily-scribbled note in the margin, "That he was flung into our world due to suicide.  Hmm."

"Oh, the poor dear," Helga interjected.  "What'd he do himself in for?"

Salazar read further.  "Good _heavens._  He killed himself because he'd been chasing a convict around for years and finally caught him, the guy saved his life, and he couldn't live with either turning him in or letting him go.  Good _heavens_."

Godric snorted.  "You've _got to be kidding me."_

"Not a bit," Sal said with a nasty smile.  "Looks like quite a bit of fanatical loyalty there, doesn't it?  But with a negative kindness rating, he's not going anywhere _near_ Helga's house…"

"Oh, no, you don't!  Don't look at me!"  Godric paused.  "Give me that file."

"Not on your life.  You're just trying to find a way to pawn him off on _me," Sal accused, smirking at Godric's guilty expression.  "Well, let me tell you straight off he's got no place in Slytherin house.  He's got a rigid code of conduct, he's never told a lie, and he's a _gypsy_."_

"Oh, really, Sal!"  Rowena snatched the file from him and scanned the basics briefly.  "You and that purity of blood business…It looks like he's quite capable of taking care of himself; he doesn't appear to need acceptance or approval from his peers."  With an apologetic shrug she passed the folder on to Gryffindor.  "He's patient and sharp, but unfortunately his wisdom-acquisition graph doesn't seem to be going up much.  I can't take him."

"Ah.  So he's not only a stubborn fanatic, he's also stuck in his ways?" Sal feigned surprise.  "Who'd have guessed?  Sounds right up your alley, Godric old boy."

"Absolutely not.  Look here, it says…um…"  Godric searched frantically for a way to rid himself of Javert.  "Come on – look here, no courage, no courage whatsoever.  See this – a man almost _died, crushed under a cart, and Javert didn't crawl in to help him up…"_

"Oh, fancy that," said Sal sarcastically, "A potential Gryffindor with a notion of self-preservation!  Amazing.  Godric, you really should take him – he'll be the only member of your house likely to survive until graduation."

Godric went to protest again but Rowena silenced him.  "Don't be childish, Godric.  Just because this Javert fellow isn't your usual Prince Charming recruit, you can't deny that he belongs in Gryffindor."

"His character is strong, he's loyal, and he hasn't got a malicious bone in his body," Helga added, shooting Salazar a pointed look.  "He's brave, too – look at this – faced down _seven _armed bandits on his own, spied on a bunch of crazed revolutionaries…he _is perfect for you."_

"What's more," Rowena said decisively, "we've got to place him, and he obviously can't go to Helga, me, or Sal.  Be reasonable."

In the face of such logic, Godric finally conceded.  "All right," he said.  "But if the next one is just as bad, I'm not taking him, no matter _how_ brave he is.  Clear?"

"Fine.  Next!"

Helga opened up the next file and tittered nervously.  "What?" snarled Sal.

"You're not going to believe this," she giggled, "But this file belongs to a certain Jean Valjean – the convict our dear friend Javert spent his life chasing down."

Sal bit down on his cigar and snorted so hard that pieces of ash and cinder sprinkled down all over the table.  "What sort of horse-manure is this?  Give me that file!"  He snatched it and skimmed the first page briefly, then slowed down.  He re-read some vital statistics, glanced over a few of the incident notes, and puffed slowly on his cigar.  "All right," he said, "This convict is my kind of scum.  I want him."

More for argument's sake than anything else, Godric demanded to see the man's information.  "Hey – Sal, you can't have this one.  Look at his kindness rating, it's off the charts!"

"Ooh, is it?  Let me see!"  Helga scooted her chair up and looked over Godric's shoulder.  "I never get the big names…maybe I can…hmmm."  A worried look was crossing her face.  "He looks a little violent to me.  And I'm not sure about all that parole-breaking business."

"He looks _brave_ is what he looks," Godric argued.  "Sal, you can't have him.  I want him."  He looked over at Rowena.  "Plus, we haven't even _begun_ to consider the wisdom graphs on this one; he seems to have been around quite a bit and learned from it all, too."

Rowena shrugged.  "It doesn't matter.  When you two get like this, I know there's no way Helga and I could get whoever you're fighting over.  Besides," she added, "I think anyone Sal calls _my kind of scum_ is not really a good addition to Ravenclaw."

"Godric," Salazar argued, "This Valjean is the quintessential Slytherin student.  Look at him – he gets what he wants, no matter the methods or the cost.  He went from galley-slave to magistrate in – how long? – not to mention raising someone else's brat because he promised to.  If that's not ambition, I don't know what is."

"But…but he's so selfless!  Sal, no offence, but your students all have a kind of ruthlessness...no self-sacrifice whatsoever…"

"Look at that file again," Sal suggested calmly, "And see if you find a single trace of self-sacrifice anywhere."  Godric didn't answer.  "No?  You don't?  Me neither.  Valjean has exactly what I want in my students.  Look."  He reached for the file, flipped to one of the incident reports, and quoted, "_Skipped jail the second time in order to rescue the child of_…, Yadda yadda.  Helga would notice how sweet it is that he rescued a child.  I, on the other hand, notice how _sly_ it is that he skipped jail _and_ disguised it as an act of mercy.  He does what he needs to do, and covers it up with altruism, and no one is the wiser.  He is _good, Godric," Sal finished admiringly._

Gryffindor bit his lip.  "All right, I see your point," he admitted finally.  "But this business with crawling under that killer cart…"

Salazar shrugged.  "Morals.  Some of my students have it, but if it gets excessive I'll see that we burn it out of him.  Don't worry, he'll do just fine in Slytherin house."

"Fine," Godric said with a gleam in his eye, "But you have to admit he's a great catch.  Since I'm relinquishing him with relatively little fuss, I want you to do me a favor in return-"

"No."

As though he hadn't answered, Godric continued, "-Take Javert."

"Absolutely not!  He'll turn in half his housemates to the caretaker!  No – scratch that – _all his housemates!  Our house will be in negative points for centuries!  And, worse yet, now that I've got this Valjean fellow, they'll start up some kind of bloodbath the moment they get their wands…"_

"Oh, come, now, Sal, don't be ridiculous," Helga admonished.  "Students know better than to take out grudges with magic on their first day."

Only slightly less animated, Salazar quickly envisioned a new danger.  "Ah, but what happens when Javert gets tired of being picked on for being an infernal gypsy's child, eh?  He could _let slip_ that his fellow student was a convict at one time, and-"

"Javert would never do that," Helga argued.  "He may not be kind, but he would never use personal information like that to manipulate public opinion out of sheer malice."

Salazar grinned.  "Then he doesn't belong in my house."

"Fine, fine, _FINE!"  Godric bellowed.  "__I will keep the nutty inspector, and __you can have the saintly convict and life will go on.  But I'm warning you, next year _I_ get dibs on who I want, and don't you _dare_ try pawning off any more lunatics on me!  Fair?"_

"Good.  We are in agreement," Rowena said, relieved.  "These two were becoming a bit of a problem.  One thing, though, Godric:  you must remember to wipe their memories of that last life, or your new student will end up stalking the corridors at night as a self-appointed sentry trying to catch Salazar's golden boy up to no good.  Okay?  Don't forget."

"I don't know how you do it, Sal," Helga sighed at Slytherin wistfully.  "Valjean would have been a heavenly addition to _any_ house, and you end up with him, and _then_, to add insult to injury, you get Godric stuck with his insane nemesis…  You're amazing."

Salazar puffed on his cigar again.  "That's why I wear the silver and the green, sister," he said with a grin.

"Pay attention, will you!"  Rowena interrupted them.  "Here – next case.  Let's get moving.  Oh, dear, another odd one…Dr. Frank N. Furter…oh, my, _what_ is this man wearing…"

*****************************************

THE END.

For those of you that didn't know, Dr. Frank N. Furter is the transvestite from Rocky Horror.

I know this is a random piece of lunacy that should have remained forever locked in the crypts of my brain, but since I've put it out here…review it!  What did you think?


	2. ch 2

Disclaimer: yeah, not mine.

*********************************************

"No, No, and a thousand times _NO!" Helga screamed, banging her head against the desk.  "This is NOT FAIR!"  She glared at the other Founders, and pointed to the stacks of files they each had sitting by their places.  "Rowena got __all the Jedi Masters-"_

"-Not all," Sal corrected.

"Well, all the ones you and Godric didn't snap up, then," Helga conceded, sounding marginally more under control.  "It's bad enough that I don't get _anybody_ interesting from this batch, but _then_, you try to pawn this…this _thing_ off on me!  I won't have it!"

"This _thing,_" Godric answered sharply, "is called a _wookie_.  I'm surprised at you, Helga, being prejudiced against Chewbacca simply because he's not human…"

Helga interrupted him furiously.  "I am prejudiced because he _has been known to tear people's arms off, speaks no intelligible language, and despite all that, he is supposed to balance out these great catches that the rest of you get!  That is _not fair_!"_

 "Attention."  Rowena Ravenclaw kicked the door open and came back into the room.  Her arms were full of a messy collection of files and folders and packets, which she dumped on the table in between them all.

Helga pounced on it.  "Let me pick first this time!"

As she sifted though the heap, Rowena whispered in Sal's ear, "Let's not get our hopes up with these – I'd be willing to bet they're almost all going to Godric."

"Why?" Sal asked aloud.  "And why are they all so ratty?  It looks like they've been through a _war…"_

"They have," Rowena explained.  "We've only just retrieved them.  Most of them come from some place called 'the barricade,' and the rest just got thrown in on top.  A big mess, I must say."

Meanwhile, Helga was flipping files open, glancing at them briefly, and tossing them to Godric with increasing irritation.  "Enjolras…Godric.  Jean Prouvaire…Godric.  Courfeyrac…Godric.  Gavroche…_oh,_ what a dear…Godric."  She looked up.  "Godric, you might as well just take all of them!"

Sal motioned to have a folder passed to him.  "Calm down, Helga.  What seems to be the trouble…oh…"  He read over Enjolras's file and shrugged.  "So, this whole crew died bravely, eh, fighting for a lost cause?  Not my type.  Or yours, really."

Helga was close to tears.  "But it's not _fair!  Can't I have any of them?"_

Meanwhile, Rowena had sifted out one of the few pink files (the rest were blue).  "Look – Eponine."

Snatching the file, Helga scanned the girl's statistics greedily at first, but her manic expression soon gave way to something rather like pity.  "Oh – she had such a bad time.  But look, Rowena, you're right.  I _can have her, she's such a sweetheart."_

Sal and Rowena looked at it together.  "Her dedication is really something.  She died for loyalty to her friend, and not for sheer Gryffindor stupidity…no offence, Godric…" Sal tacked on speedily.

"Yes, definitely a Hufflepuff.  Kind and dependable, but fades right into the background.  She's even a little more introverted than your usual kids, Helga," Rowena observed.  "Almost _too self-effacing.  Make sure she makes friends and stands up for herself."_

"You don't need to tell _me how to get through to that type," Helga reminded her._

Salazar smiled.  "Of course, mum."  He nodded his assent to the placement.  "Eponine's got a bit of a mothering streak, too, come to that.  She's everybody's little sister or mother or what-have-you.  Take her.  She has a good heart."

"Let's just hope it wasn't damaged; she _did take a bullet to the chest, didn't she?" Helga worried._

Godric laughed.  "Oh, come off it.  You and those superstitions.  I tell you, the cause of death has absolutely _no_ effect on future personality.  Remember that Javert fellow you stuck me with?  He died in water, didn't he, and it doesn't seem to have diluted any of his convictions.  More's the pity," he muttered under his breath.  Sal raised an eyebrow.

"Godric, I'm surprised at you," he said self-righteously.  "Complaining about an attribute you claim to value…"

"No, I don't value pig-headedness, only confidence.  Strength of character, you know.  Can't have them bending with every breeze that passes, but nobody ever learned anything by being stubborn as a mule.  Look – this Enjolras.  _He_ is what I want.  He was willing to give his life for a cause-"

"-A _lost_ cause," Sal interrupted softly, but Godric continued.

"-for a cause because he believed in it, but he didn't waste the lives of others.  When an opportunity came to send people to safety, he took it.  He's a good leader…"

"He shot one of his own men in cold blood," Sal read.  "Directly before a battle when they were already outnumberd.  Oh, what a strategical genius.  No wonder Godric likes him."

Gryffindor glared.  "Enjolras shot that insurgent," he growled, "because it was a necessary thing.  The courage to do that is courage like any other."

"That's true," Rowena agreed.  "Sal, come on – quit needling him.  You know you'd have done the same.  And you don't want Enjolras anyway."

"Yes, I don't.  _Spy, we are judges, not assassins,_" Sal mimicked the rebel leader, then offered his own translation.  "In other words, sure, we're going to look you in the eye and kill you, Javert…just not with a knife.  We'll do it with a gun, see, and that way, we can pretend there's some honor in it.  Of course we can't just call a spade a spade and say-"

"SALAZAR SLYTHERIN!  IF YOU DARE-"

Sal looked shocked at Gryffindor's outburst, and held up his hands.  "Godric, Godric, keep your knickers on!  I was only _joking.  If you people need fancy moral excuses to do what you want, that's just none of my business, is it?  You can keep Enjolras and his posturing.  If evil is to be done, I prefer a more straightforward approach to it – judges, assassins, they're all killers."  He picked up a different file and sighed.  "Speaking of straightforward…I suppose I have to take this crude couple?"_

Rowena nodded.  "Yes.  Sorry.  The Thenardiers may be disgusting, Sal, but they're definitely your territory.  Ambitious, crafty, you name it."

"Ugh.  All right," he agreed.  "The…female?...isn't exactly the brightest torch of the hall, but I guess, with a lot of effort, I can make something of _him, at least.  He's resourceful and good _heavens _but he's got balls of steel.  Look at this bit in the sewers: he comes across a murderer who's strong as an ox and instead of running in terror, he concocts a plan on the fly, to get the man's money __and use him as a distraction to make a getaway!  I can work with that."_

"See?" Helga asked cheerfully.  "There's a silver lining in every cloud."

"Unless Thenardier's _stolen it already," Sal muttered.  "Just make a note on that file – I'll have to be sure I get them reborn into _very _wealthy families, so there's none of that petty money-grubbing going on."_

Godric seconded that with a little chuckle.  "Yes, most of the greedy Recycles mellow pretty quickly when they're raised in the lap of luxury.  Which only goes to show that a charitable view of human nature is proper after all…"

"Charitable, my foot," Sal said irritably, glaring at the filthy grinning photographs on the Thenardiers' coverpage.  "Stuff it, Godric.  You've won your point; I'll take them, so you don't need to rub it in.  Clever or not, these people are disgusting and they have no principles.  But I don't suppose I could persuade any of _you_ to take them…Rowena?  Helga?  No?  Shocking.  So, I am left with the worst of the slime again this year.  How unusual."

 Getting a little testy herself, now, Rowena pointed to Sal's pile.  "On the whole, you can't complain.  True, Godric is getting most of these hunky French boys, but you got a couple interesting people already today…"

"Oh, yes, of course."  Sal ticked off on his fingers:  "The saintly Thenardiers, a couple no-account scrubby soldiers who just _happen to dream big, and the illustrious Darth Vader.  Yes, today has been very productive for me.  We've done great honor to Slytherin house."_

They were all so used to his sarcastic griping that they ignored him completely, paying attention instead to a very disorderly-looking binder Rowena had pulled from under the table.

"I saved this for last," she said loudly, overriding Salazar's complaints, "Because it's, um, a special case."

Salazar sat stubbornly in his chair while Helga and Godric went to leaf through the papers.  After a bit, Helga's bad mood resurfaced with a vengeance.  "I _give up_," she snarled, pounding her fist on the table.  "I just give up!  What the bloody _hell are we supposed to do this guy?  What do they think we are?  God himself couldn't place this nut!  What are we supposed to do?" _

"We're supposed to work magic," Sal answered nastily.  In response, Helga threw the coverpage across the table to him with a growl, and he looked it over.  Instantly convinced, he made a face, forgetting his own peevishness of a moment before.  "Is this their idea of a _joke?"  The Four Founders had stopped arguing, were once more united in common exasperation against The Powers That Be.  Salazar read the title aloud.  "__Jekyll comma Henry slash Edward Hyde."  _

************************************************

The End (for good this time – I actually tried to make myself sort Marius and Cosette, but I dislike them too intensely so I couldn't be fair.)


End file.
